


Coming Home

by DukeBrymin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-08-16
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DukeBrymin/pseuds/DukeBrymin
Summary: Now that the Final Battle is over, Harry wants to pick up the pieces of the life he left behind, starting with Ginny.





	1. A Wedding Ring

  
The Common Room was a welcome sight for Harry’s eyes.  He hadn’t stopped to think about it too much, but he figured the only rest he’d gotten in the last however many hours had been in Hagrid’s arms when he’d been assumed dead.

He slowly climbed the stairs to what would have been his dormitory if he hadn’t spent the year camping and trying to find soul fragments.  Curiously enough, there were still five beds, even though the number of occupants had never risen above three.

The bed that would have been Harry’s had the curtains drawn shut--Harry assumed it was to keep the mattress inside from being used as a shelf for the other inhabitants.  He wearily toed off his shoes, pulled off his jumper, and opened the curtains.  Hopefully he’d be able to sleep for a good long while, before he had to confront anyone wanting something from him.

Harry reached up to remove his glasses, then paused.  There seemed to be something distinctly off about his bed.  The sheets and blankets that he’d half-expected to be missing were still there.  There was a pillow, with a case and everything.  But he hadn’t expected there to be a person already in residence.  Dumbfounded, he remained where he was, half-in and half-out of the hangings, mouth agape, and hand holding on to his glasses.

The shape in his bed rolled over toward him, and Ginny’s face came into view.  She’d obviously been sleeping, as her face showed an imprint from the pillow, and her hair was frowsy.  She blinked up at Harry, and he was struck, at that moment, with a huge welling-up of happiness.  He had spent so much time while on the run just thinking about her.  He had spent his nights on watch peering at the Map, watching over her dot in the Gryffindor girls’ tower.  And his days were spent thinking of the wonderful, incredible, love-filled days of the last school year (at least, the latter part of it).  During the battle, he hadn’t had time to think of anything more personal than to just hope that she was safe.  But now. . . now he had all the time in the world.  

“Are you planning on just staring for the rest of forever?  Or are you going to join me?”  Ginny had woken up enough for coherence, and her words startled him slightly.  

“Um, yeah.  I just didn’t expect to find you here,” he responded, as he moved forward, leaving his glasses on, but allowing the curtains to fall closed behind him.  “Are you sure you want me in there with you?”

She frowned at him, and he hastened to explain.  “No, not that.  It’s just . . . well, I’m not very clean.  I’ve been wearing these clothes for . . . erm, I don’t really remember how long.  And I probably stink, too.  Somehow, showers didn’t seem as important as killing Tom.”

Ginny chuckled a bit, then sat up, allowing the sheet to fall down until it was exposing her milky-white shoulders.  “What makes you think I’d let you in here with those clothes on anyway?”  And she let the sheet drop a little more.

Harry’s mouth fell open.  He decided that this was the best idea he’d heard all . . . day, week, month. . . possibly all year, so he hurried to obey.  It proved to be a mistake to try to take his shirt and trousers off at the same time, and that was compounded by his having left his glasses on.  Ginny giggled when Harry toppled onto the bed, with one arm still trapped in his shirt, and only one leg even partially divested of clothing.

“Harry,” she said softly.  “Don’t worry--I’m not going to disappear.  I’ve waited much too long for this, and I’m willing to wait for you to get undressed the right way.”  She lay back on the bed with her hands behind her head, and smiled at him.

He grinned back, sheepishly, and extricated his arms.  With those free, he carefully took his shirt off, then his trousers, and made to climb under the covers.  Ginny smirked at him, and said, “Unh-uh.  My knickers are over with my clothes--you can at least show me the courtesy of matching me.”

Harry blushed crimson, but slowly removed the last article of clothing.  Ginny smiled up at him, and held out her arms.  He wasted no time in climbing under the covers and pulling her towards him.  This--this was what he had been fighting for.  Not the wizarding world, not Hogwarts, not even his friends.  When it came right down to it, he had been fighting for Ginny.  And not just an idealized Ginny-on-a-pedestal, but a Ginny he could hold, and kiss, and love.  Her arms pulled him as close as possible, and he felt her warmth spread through his body, and engulf him in love.  The tensions and strains of the past year melted away, slowly, but surely.  The chaos and pain of the battle, the cries of the wounded, they were all forgotten as he found himself quietly weeping on Ginny’s shoulder.

And Harry wasn’t the only one finding surcease--Ginny’s tears dropped onto Harry’s shoulder as she finally, finally was able to feel, deep inside her, the absolute truth of Harry’s survival.  The shock of Hagrid carrying his body out of the woods, the mocking words that Voldemort had broadcast, the rage and shock as the Wizarding world struggled to comprehend the death of their Savior; all these things had combined to just about break Ginny.  But as she held the love of her life in her arms, close to her heart, she felt those knots and tangles loosen inside her, and slowly, slowly untie themselves.

They never really knew how long they just lay in bed together, holding on for dear life, for sanity, for peace.  However long it was, it was enough to allow their thoughts to turn from the utter salvation of finding each other safe and sane, to the idea of, perhaps, celebrating their victory in another way.  It started slowly; Harry kissed Ginny’s shoulder where a tear had landed, and found that the feel of her skin on his lips had become more tantalizing than reassuring.  Ginny felt that kiss, and responded by loosening her grip, then shifting her hands so that one lay on his back, and the other gently intertwined itself in his hair.

Harry kissed Ginny’s shoulder again, then moved his lips to the hollow of her neck, where he knew she liked the attention.  When he kissed her there, and a small moan escaped her mouth, Harry backed up.  Assuaging her fears, he just reached for his wand and cast a sealing charm on the curtains and a silencing charm around the bed.  

Assured of their privacy, although it was probably a dead certainty that there would be people down in the Common Room guarding the stairs against unwanted visitors, the kisses grew more heated, the hands more urgent, and the moans and sighs more passionate.

Harry knew that they were rapidly approaching the point of no return, and he consciously stopped and lifted himself up slightly so he could look Ginny in the eye.  She returned the look with one that was reminiscent of the so-called Quidditch Kiss, although full of more fire than Harry thought was possible, and they came together again.

They moved together, and kissed frantically, and clutched at shoulders, and hips, and uttered groans and gasps and little love-words.  And as they did so, they both, independently, felt a rush of love, and warmth, and permanence, and perfection, and knew that they had finally come home.

No words were spoken afterward, both Harry and Ginny were spent, and tired, and beyond tired.  Positions were adjusted, and covers were arranged, and they once again discovered the perfect way for two people to cuddle in bed together, and, perfection achieved, they drifted off to the first really peaceful night’s (and next day’s) sleep they’d had since the end of the previous school year.

But as they slept, and time passed, a small, simple, almost insignificant glamor charm wore off, and a wedding ring appeared, as if by magic, on Ginny’s left ring finger.


	2. Asking the Question

“Ron!  So help me, if you don’t stop this instant, I’ll. . . I’ll. . . I’ll learn the Bat-Bogey hex and use it on you!”  Hermione wasn’t really pleased with that threat.  It lacked one of the three necessities for a good threat.  Validity, of course, was the first.  The threatened person had to really believe that the threatener would go through with it.  Ron, of course, didn’t doubt that.  The second was the direness potential.  It wouldn’t do to threaten something innocuous; it would be like threatening to mess up Harry’s hair.  A Bat-Bogey Hex was definitely dire, and Ron knew it.  But the third thing. . . the third thing was immediacy.  If she had to wait to learn the Hex so that she could use it, then her threat really wasn’t a threat--it fell into the category of Vague Promises of Postponed Retribution.  And Ron had proven in the past that any threat that was less immediate than, say, dinner, wouldn’t even impinge upon his consciousness.

Ron wasn’t really that concerned about the so-called threat that Hermione had just issued.  But the fire in her eyes as she uttered it had distracted him somewhat from his quest, and he moved down a stair.  “Honestly?  Hermione, you must be tireder than I thought.  Do you need to take another nap?”

“No, Ronald!  I do not need to take another nap.  I just woke up, for Merlin’s sake, and I’m not. . . not. . . “ and her voice died as her mouth split open in a huge yawn.  She gave up, and sat down.  “Fine, I am a little tired--” Ron snickered.  “--but that doesn’t mean I won’t Body Bind you if you bother Harry while he’s sleeping!”

Ron made his way back to the sofa and sat down next to her.  “But don’t you worry?  I mean, he’s been up there for almost a whole day.  He can’t be that tired, can he?”

Hermione unconsciously moved closer to Ron, and he automatically lifted his arm so she could fit underneath it.  “I don’t know, Ron.  We don’t know exactly what happened out in the forest.  Harry mentioned that he’d had to die, right?  And, knowing Harry, that is, if anything, an understatement.  Maybe being killed makes you more tired.”

Ron couldn’t help it.  He tried, but a snicker escaped.  Then a chuckle.  Then a snort.  Then Hermione giggled a bit, and that let loose the laughter.  They laughed, and they laughed, and they laughed, and as they laughed, they found themselves, instead, crying.  Crying that their best friend had had to die.  Crying at the deaths of those around them.  Crying at how close they had come to dying themselves.  

As the sobs turned to sniffles, and the sniffles to hiccoughs, Hermione found that she really was tired, and Ron’s side was rather comfortable, and she gently, quietly, slipped into a more peaceful rest than she’d had in. . . well, in quite a long time.  

Ron noticed when her breathing evened out, and she started making that absolutely adorable, and very quiet, snoring.  He smiled to himself--he hadn’t wanted to say anything, but he’d been rather worried about Hermione.  She always cared so much about Harry, about everyone, really, and he knew she hadn’t had the opportunity to really rest yet.  He gently moved her forward a bit, scooted over slightly, and stretched her out so she would be more comfortable.  

Ron was torn.  Harry had been up in the tower for an awfully long time.  Sure, he was probably asleep, or maybe asleep again, but he really wished he knew for sure.  He had just been planning on sneaking up the stairs and looking in at his best mate, honestly!  But Hermione hadn’t let him, and he supposed that he could wait.  Besides, Hermione really looked like she needed sleep, and who knows who might come in and bother her?  So, Ron leaned back on the couch, and turned slightly, so he could keep the stairs in his field of view, as well as Hermione’s face.  He would keep watch, over both of his best friends.

oooooooooo

Harry was very comfortable.  The bed was soft, the covers warm, and there was a delicious warm weight on his right-hand side.  He felt safe (which was definitely not to be discounted), and, as far as he knew, no-one was actively seeking his demise.  But, he desperately needed to use the loo.  

He closed his eyes again and tried to convince his body that he didn’t really have to get up.  It didn’t work.  Now that he had thought about it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Sighing (quietly, so as not to awaken Ginny), he set about trying to worm his way out of the warm nest that they had created.

Ginny must have been rather tired too, as her only response to losing Harry’s body heat was a soft murmuring that sounded like “b’ na ry”, which didn’t make a lot of sense.  Harry found his glasses, the better to stare at Ginny’s hair, spread across his pillow as he’d imagined it so many times, and his wand, the better to undo the sealing charm on the curtains, and started toward the loo.  

Only to stop, turn around quickly, and rummage in the pile of his disgusting, dirty, and rather rank clothing for his boxers.  Now clad in the accepted manner for the boys’ dorm, he made his way to the loo.  

oooooooooo

Ginny woke slowly.  Her subconscious told her she was safe, that there was no reason to wake up quickly, and she had been having the most wonderful dream.  She blushed as she remembered the dream more completely, but then the events of the previous evening caught up with her, and the dream vanished behind her memories.

Now fully awake, she realized that Harry had left her alone in the bed.  The depression where he had lain was cool, and she couldn’t quite suppress the jolt of fear that ran through her.  “Harry!” she called, looking around frantically for her wand.  She called again, but there was no answer.  Now fully panicked, she clambered off the bed.  Not wanting to go out into the dorm room starkers, she threw on her shirt, and was just about ready to pull on her grime-encrusted pants from the previous day, when the curtains suddenly opened.

Ginny spun around, the incantation for the Stunning Spell already being formed, only to collapse in relief at seeing Harry.  “Harry!  Where were you?  I woke up, and you were gone, and I couldn’t stop thinking that you had been taken, or last night had been a dream, or. . .” and she burst into tears.

Harry was around the bed in a flash, holding Ginny close to his body, stroking her hair and muttering soothing nothings.  He took a moment to notice the fact that, while a crying Cho Chang had scared him half to death, a crying Ginny in his arms made him want to protect her, and calm her, and rip apart anyone who dared make his girl cry!  

Eventually Ginny calmed down enough to notice that Harry smelled much better.  She also noticed that he was even less clothed than she was, which was saying something.  She leaned back in Harry’s arms and smiled up at him.

“I think I like you like this, Potter.  Clean and naked.  Was this show just for me?  Or did the others get a chance to watch you streak through the dorms?”

Harry blushed mightily, and Ginny leaned back even more to see how far down his body the blush extended.  It turned out that it didn’t extend extremely far, but by the time she saw enough to notice that, she had seen enough to become distracted from her goal.

“It’s just for you, Gin.  It looks like there’s nobody else on this level.  In fact, I can’t really hear anything from any of the floors.  So, um, if you want to take a shower, I don’t think anyone will notice. . .”

Ginny thought about it, she really did.  But being held by a very naked, and very handsome Harry, while not wearing much of anything herself had given her other ideas.  She snuggled in closer to his chest and started to gently run her hands up his arms.  “Harry,” she practically purred.

“Yes?” he squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again.  “What, Gin?”

“I really want to take a shower.  Later.  With you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.  Then he swallowed, swallowed again, and leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss didn’t even start out innocent; it was purely sensual from the beginning, and quickly grew white-hot.  How Harry managed to do it, he never knew, but he got both of them off the floor and into bed without breaking the kiss.  Ginny moaned as Harry lay her down on the bed, and Harry swore to himself that as soon as possible, he’d make it so he could call her his wife.

Ginny’s shirt came off rather reluctantly, as if it, too, wanted to participate, but soon enough they were clasped tightly in each other’s arms, feeling of the love that surrounded them.  Harry had been afraid that it would be awkward, bringing up the subject of making love, and dealing with the physical side of their relationship.  But they fit together perfectly, as if each part of him was made to exactly fit each part of her, and Harry fancied he could hear a tiny click as they connected.

Even though this was only the second time they’d been able to be together in this most intimate of ways, it felt as if he were made to spend the rest of his life giving her pleasure, and receiving it in turn.

Ginny had been worried that this new level of their relationship would make Harry back off.  It was pretty common knowledge that Harry had not had a good example of a proper physical relationship.  And they’d probably need to talk about things later, but right now it didn’t seem as though he were reluctant in any way.  In fact, if he kept doing that, and then starting doing . . . and all thoughts fled as she gave herself fully to the sensations, the caring, the loving, and became one with Harry.

oooooooooo

This time, they didn’t fall asleep right after.  Harry lay on his back, Ginny on his left side, this time, with his arm around her, and her left hand over his heart.  As they lay there, basking in the afterglow, Harry reached out for his glasses, which, for some reason, were tucked between the mattress and the headboard, rather than on the nightstand.

He put them on, wanting to see Ginny’s face.  As she came into focus, and he noticed the smile there, he smiled back at her.  “Hey, you,” he said gently.

She looked back up at him.  “Hey, yourself.”

Harry had planned on asking Ginny how she had slept, but instead found himself saying, “Thank you.  Thank you for giving me the best gift anyone can give.”

Ginny blushed slightly, but looked back into his eyes.  “Harry, I’ve always only wanted you.  And I’ve always only wanted to give it to you.  Thank you for coming back to me.”

Harry teared up a bit at that and squeezed her tighter.  “I couldn’t not come back.  You were the last thing I saw before I died, and you are why I came back.”  

Ginny gasped at this, but calmed her emotions.  They would be able to talk about the deep, serious, life-altering things later.  But it was something she most decidedly did not want to discuss while lying in bed naked.  Wanting to return to the lighter, or at least, more loving topics, she grinned and asked, “So, did you find any Veela while you were gone, Mr. Potter?”

Harry chuckled, and Ginny quickly put her ear against his chest--she loved hearing his happiness so close to her.  “No, Gin.  No Veela, no models, no girls even close to matching you in my eyes.  Although, I did spend quite some time alone with Hermione. . .” He trailed off suggestively.

Ginny swatted him on the chest.  “And I suppose that you both found yourselves prisoners of passion, and succumbed to your base natures, yeah?”

Harry blanched.  “Eww!  No, I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of Hermione like that.  By the time I noticed that girls were different than boys, she was already my sister.  And besides, I wouldn’t have wanted Ron to come back and kill me--he probably wouldn’t even know why.”

“So, I don’t need to worry about you throwing me over for the resident bookworm?”

“No, Ginny.  You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to do, well, this with,” and he motioned towards their bodies, lying intertwined on the bed.

“Really?  Not even with Cho?” Ginny asked, honestly wondering.

“Not even with her,” Harry answered.  “I thought she was very pretty--nowhere near as pretty as you--but I didn’t know what to do with her, and had no idea how to handle her.  You--you’re different.  I can be myself with you.  You understand me, and you know how to deal with me.  And you’re so. . . perfect for me.  You’re beautiful, and smart, and sexy,” he caressed her then, causing a thrill to run up her back.  “You’re it for me, Gin.  You’re my first, and I want you to be my last, and every one in-between.”

Ginny melted at these words.  She knew Harry loved her, and hoped that he loved her with the same passion she loved him.  And these words had just confirmed it.  She kissed his chest, then decided she wanted more.  She lifted up a bit, and reached up to his cheek, wanting to stroke his face, and kiss him, and perhaps climb on top of him and see how that worked.

But as she reached her left hand towards him, his eyes focused on her fingers.  He grabbed her left hand, and looked up at her with panic in his eyes.  “Ginny,” he said, suddenly very serious.  “Why are you wearing that wedding ring?”


	3. With This Ring

Ron had a problem.  The more time passed, the more serious a problem it was becoming.  In fact, it was becoming such a severe problem that it was causing him to not think about how hungry, or thirsty, or dirty he felt.  It had even overtaken the worries about his right leg being asleep from Hermione’s head resting on it.  It was coming close to being more important than the fact that he had to use the loo.  Simply put, he hadn’t seen Ginny.  

Not, he would clarify, that he had never seen her!  He had certainly seen Ginny many times throughout his life, including a few of the unfortunately more memorable times he’d accidentally found her wrapped around Harry, snogging him for all she was worth.  No, it was the fact that he hadn’t seen Ginny in Gryffindor Tower after the Final Battle.  He and Hermione had left the rest of the Weasley brothers with their parents in the Great Hall, on their mission to go watch over Harry while he slept.  As the couple had left, Ron’s mum had called to him to check on Ginny, too, as she had been headed that way.

But they hadn’t caught up with his sister, and Hermione utterly refused to leave Ron alone in the Common Room, suspecting (probably correctly) that Ron would take the opportunity to bother Harry.  So she hadn’t gone up the girls’ side to check for Ginny.  And it was a certainty that Ron himself couldn’t go up there--even if he knew some secret password to keep the stairs from turning into a slide, Hermione would give him one of those looks, and Ron would find himself sitting down on one of the sofas.

So, Ron was worried.  His mind started running through the possible locations where Ginny could be hiding, but there were too many to think of.  He had to believe she had come to Gryffindor Tower.  Why wouldn’t Hermione just go up and check?  That had seemed a little off, to Ron.  If Hermione had been so concerned about Ron possibly bothering Harry, why didn’t she just Body-Bind him and then go check on Ginny?  The more he thought about it, the more he started to suspect something.  Hermione had seemed a little flustered when they had discussed trying to find Ginny.  And she was rather passionate about them leaving Harry, and even his dorm room, alone.

Ron wasn’t stupid.  True, he didn’t always grasp things as quickly as Hermione (which wasn’t saying very much), or even Harry, but then, they never beat him in chess, either.  Given enough time, and motivation, he could reason things out.  And the conclusion he came to was as distasteful to him as it was unassailable:  Harry and Ginny were up in the boys’ dorms together.

Ron had risen halfway out of his seat before he remembered that Hermione was, or had been, sleeping on his leg.  He sat down quickly, but the damage had been done--Hermione’s head had slipped off his lap, and he ended up sitting on her forehead, sliding off it, and pulling her hair rather forcefully.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!” she yelled, as she tried, unsuccessfully, to dislodge him from his seat.  “GET OFF MY HAIR!”

Ron jumped up again, but knew, deep inside of him, that Hermione wasn’t to be calmed by his mere obedience.  He watched dispiritedly as she sat up, holding her head in pain.  Her voice, when she finally spoke again, was a pained whisper, which made him feel even more wretched.

“Ron.  Do you have any reasonable explanation for why you sat on my head?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.  Finally, he just lowered his head and said, “I’m sorry, Hermione.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  Please forgive me?”

Hermione was startled.  Ron was actually acting maturely!  She had noticed, and was happy about, a few signs of his growing up throughout the past year.  He had certainly performed his parts admirably, in most cases.  True, he had abandoned them during their extended camping trip, but he had returned, and owned up to it.  And he had fought very well, and even suggested warning the house-elves about the battle.  Perhaps, just perhaps, the little boy she’d become accustomed to had finally decided to become a man.

“Yes, Ron.  Of course I forgive you.  But I would like to know why my hair was almost sacrificed to your bum.”

The totally uncharacteristic, and rather risque joke, caught Ron off-guard, and he snorted, then burst out into laughter.  Hermione laughed along with him, then stood up and walked toward him.  She stopped just in front of him, and looked up into his eyes.  

His laughter trailed off, and he looked back down at her.  His eyes were captivated by hers, and he looked deeper, and deeper, and found himself falling, and falling, and never wanting to stop.  Without realizing it, he put his hands on her shoulders, and gently drew her closer.  And as he did so, he leaned down, and tilted his head slightly (he’d learned about bumping noses already), and kissed her.

And she kissed him back, and all other thoughts, Ginny’s location, Harry’s health, even Fred’s death, flew right out of his head.

oooooooooo

“Merlin’s soggy socks!” Ginny yelled.

Harry was slightly taken aback at Ginny’s response.  It really was a simple question--where had Ginny gotten that ring?

“Gin?” he ventured, tentatively.

“I’m sorry, Harry.  I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.  Of all the times to forget the glamor charm.”  She paused for a bit, then bit her lip and looked back up at her lover.  “I don’t suppose you want to wait until we, erm, finish what we were starting, do you?”

Truth be told, Harry was thinking the same thing.  His beautiful, fiery, sexy, and completely naked Ginny was sitting in front of him, looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, and he found himself quite unmistakeably reacting to the sight.  He dragged his eyes back up from where they had drifted.  In a rather rough voice he said, “You’ll tell me afterward, right?”

She nodded quickly, and even more quickly stretched out towards him, kissing his waiting mouth and into him.  Harry’s arms wrapped around her body, and as they kissed, and touched, and moved, and grew closer, Ginny found out the answer to her question--her being on top worked just as well.

oooooooooo

Some uncounted time later, when hearts and breaths had both calmed back down, Harry turned to the side, allowing Ginny to lie down next to him.  She cuddled close, in what had become their favorite sleeping position, and then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Harry, love, I think I’m about ready for that shower now.  Join me?”

Harry smiled down at her blurrily and nodded.  “Yeah, I think I’d really like that.”  

Regardless, neither one of them moved for awhile, very happy to just be together, after the horrible time they’d had to spend apart, pretending they were nothing more than friends.  Eventually, though, Ginny wiggled out of Harry’s arm and sat up, stretching.  

“Harry?”  

Silence.  

“Harry?”   

Silence.  

“Harry!”  

Nothing.  

Ginny finally turned to look at him, and noticed his eyes fixed firmly on her body.  Ginny lowered her arms from her stretch and reached out and nudged him.  

He blinked, then looked back up at her.  “Uhhh. . . Did you. . . did you say something, Gin?”

Ginny giggled, then slapped his arm, lightly.  “I might have to start being careful where I stretch, yeah?  Wait a minute!  You don’t have your glasses on; how could you see me?”

Harry blushed furiously and glanced away.  Turning back to her, he mumbled, “I can see enough--I saw what you were doing, and just imagined the details.”

Ginny blushed, then threw herself back down on him and snogged him for all she was worth.  Eventually, though, she drew back from the kiss and took his hands.  “Harry, I’d really like to--”

“--have another round?  I’m okay with that, it’s bloody brilliant!”  

Ginny giggled again.  “That’s not what I was going to say, love.  I agree, though.  It really is brilliant.  But what I’d like to do right now is go get clean, and answer your question.”

Harry looked blankly back at Ginny.  He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what question he’d asked.  Ginny snorted, then held up her left hand right in front of his eyes, and wiggled the fingers.  “The ring, Harry.  Remember?”

At this reminder, Harry looked shocked, then turned serious.  “You’re right, Gin.  It’s probably time to talk about that.  Do you, maybe, want to talk while we’re showering?”

“Oh, um, about that.  Maybe we could take a bath, instead?  I’m a little bit sore.”

Harry couldn’t guess why Ginny would be embarrassed about being sore--his muscles were pretty stiff too.  Fighting so hard had taken a lot out of him, and he didn’t know what-all Ginny had had to face.  “Yeah, that sounds really good, I could use a warm bath too--I think my hand is permanently cramped from holding my wand so tightly.”

Ginny just stared at him.  What in Merlin’s name was he talking about?  “What?  Your hand is cramped?”

Harry looked back in confusion.  “Yeah. . . I mean, the fighting was really hard, wasn’t it?  And my legs are rather tired.  I think I wrenched one of my shoulders too. . .”  His words died as he watched the most interesting look come into Ginny’s eyes.  It seemed to be equal parts humor, embarrassment, and love.  “What?” he finally asked.

Ginny took his hand and tugged so he’d follow her off the bed.  “No, Harry.  I’m not sore like that--well, okay, maybe a little bit.  But I’m sore from our other activities.”

Harry was still really confused.  What other activities was she talking about?  The only other things they’d done was--  

Oh.

That other activity.

Ginny, who was watching, just about died from laughter.  His face looked confused, then it turned completely white, then the deepest red she’d ever seen on a non-Weasley.  She waited for him to say something, but he just stared at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.

She tugged on his hand some more, until finally he looked up at her.  She smiled gently at him.  “Harry, it’s okay.  It’s normal, and just means I’ve been--” and Ginny blushed bright red too, “--using muscles that aren’t used to being used like that.”

They stood there, having a veritable blushing contest, until Ginny leaned in and kissed Harry’s cheek.  “Come on, loverboy, let’s go sit in a hot bath and talk about some very important things, okay?”

Harry nodded, then leaned in and kissed her.  “Yeah, let’s go.  I’m looking forward to relaxing in a tub with you.”

Harry stuck his head out of the curtains, just to make sure they were alone.  Finding no-one else there, they traipsed across the floor and into the bathroom.  Where they encountered another problem.

“Gin, I’m not sure the boys have bathtubs--I don’t remember seeing one in here before.”

Ginny just smiled and led him to the last shower stall.  Making sure the door was shut, she tapped on the handle three times and said, “Bathtub, please,” then opened the door.

Harry was astounded.  Yes, Hogwarts was a magical place, but why hadn’t anyone taught him about the bathtub option?  “That’s incredible, Gin.  How did you know?”

“Well, we girls sometimes like baths, especially after a hard Quidditch match, or, I don’t know, maybe some of the girls have a rough time in the Charms Club.  But anyway, all the older girls pass on the secret to the new ones.  I wasn’t exactly sure that it worked the same for the boys, but it was definitely worth a shot.”

Harry looked in, wondering what kind of bathtub it was.  He was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t as feature-rich as the one in the Prefect’s Bath, but this one looked cosier, and given his feelings towards the beautiful red-head next to him, that could only be a good thing.

oooooooooo

“I think I’ve found my new favorite way to relax,” Harry sighed as they soaked in the tub together.  His arms were lazily wrapped around her body, allowing him to hold her close, and occasionally tickle her.  

Ginny leaned her head back and looked up at him.  “Really?  A new favorite way?”  Harry nodded.  “So, are you referring to the bath?  or perhaps some other activity that we might have done lately, three times. . .”

Harry smiled, then chuckled a bit.  “Well, I was referring to the bath, but you’re right, that other way was much more fun.  But this is a close second.  Just being able to hold you like this--it’s more than I ever figured I’d be able to enjoy.”  He was silent for a bit, and Ginny was content to just relax against him while he put his thoughts in order.  Eventually he shook his head a bit and continued.  “When I. . . when I was down in the forest, waiting for Voldemort to kill me. . . all I could think about was you.  About. . . about how I would never get to hold you again, or kiss you.  I was so happy that you’d be able to live, mind you, but I was so sad that I wouldn’t be able to share it with you.  All those things I’d miss out on--flying with you, dancing with you, holding you. . .”  He stopped, then started again, softly, “And that I’d never get to make love to you.  But now. . . now I have you here with me, and I can’t help but think we should grab all the happiness that we can, because . . . because something might go wrong, and I’d have to leave you again.”

Ginny listened as her Harry, the one that defeated Voldemort, the one who suffered himself to be killed in order to protect his loved ones, cried softly into her hair.  She just held his arms close, and murmured, over and over again, how much she loved him.  When he stopped, she lifted his arms up, and turned around on his lap.  After rearranging themselves for more comfort, she took his head in her hands and looked into his eyes.  “Harry, don’t you get it?  We are together, and nothing will take me away from you.  Anything you want to do, we’ll do it together.  If you decide to return to Hogwarts, then I’ll come back too, but if you don’t want to, then I won’t either.  We have the rest of our lives to spend together!  This ring--do you know what it symbolizes?  Eternity, Harry.  It is as if you gave this to me when we were married.”

“But--”

“No, I know.  I know we agreed not to exchange rings, that the risk was too great.  But I couldn’t--” she sniffled a bit.  “--I couldn’t let you go without having something of yours to keep.  Have you ever really investigated your vault?”

Harry shook his head at the apparent non-sequitur.

“Well, behind that pile of gold and silver are a few boxes--old trunks and such.  When we went to Diagon Alley for school stuff last year, I snuck off and went to our vault.”  Harry smiled at hearing her refer to it as theirs.  “The goblins didn’t have any problems with your wife going down there--they’re remarkably unflappable, you know?  Anyway, in an old trunk I found a set of rings.  I think they must have been some family heirloom or something.  It felt as if I were being pulled, or magicked into taking this one out and putting it on my finger.  And once it was on, I felt. . . I don’t know, more connected to you, to your family.”

“But, Gin, the danger--”

“Bollocks to the danger!  I made sure I cast a glamor on it once a week--and no-one ever seemed to be able to feel it.  Maybe it knew I wanted to keep it hidden--maybe there’s some magic in it.  But the first time anyone’s ever noticed it was you, last night, or this morning, or whenever it was.  Whatever the reason, it comforted me while you were gone.”

“But why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I just. . . I never felt good about it.  I didn’t want you to worry about it.  It was kind of my secret way of supporting you, and I just. . . I don’t know.  Maybe the magic in the ring worked to keep me from saying anything to anybody, even you.  It’s even kind of hard to talk about it now, too.  But, I think, maybe, if we do this right, the magic will somehow include you, and I’ll feel fine talking about it with you.”  She bit her lip, slightly nervous now.  “Um, are you okay with it?  I didn’t mean to--”

Harry leaned forward and kissed her quiet.  “Gin, that’s. . . that’s just perfect.  I was worried--I didn’t know whether someone might have seen it, or somehow recognized that we were married.  But obviously it didn’t harm you, and if it gave you courage, then I can’t imagine anything I would have wanted more.  Do you think, maybe, I could do it right?”

Ginny’s eye’s got very bright then, as she took the wedding ring off and handed it to her husband.  He took it, kissed it, and reached for her left hand.  Looking deeply into Ginny’s eyes, he slid the ring onto her finger, saying, “With this ring, and all my magic and soul, I reaffirm my wedding vows to the most beautiful, gracious, and stunningly sexy Ginevra Molly Weasley--” he grinned at her, then added, “--Potter.”


	4. Meeting the Family

  
  
Molly Weasley had a problem. Several, in fact. But the one that was preying on her mind now was the location of her four youngest. Truth be told, after the chaos of the battle, and the ministering to the wounded, it had been quite a relief to send Ginny, Ron, and Hermione off to bed so that she wouldn’t have to worry about them. But it had been rather a long time since she’d seen those three, and even longer since she’d seen Harry.  
  
Currently, she and Arthur were seated at a table in the Great Hall, desultorily nibbling on whatever meal happened to be in front of them. Charlie and Bill were across the table from her, dozing, and George and. . . and Percy--somehow that felt like a betrayal to put those two names together--were seated next to Arthur. But not knowing exactly where her other four were was rather vexing.  
  
“Arthur,” she said, leveraging herself to her feet, “I’m going up to Gryffindor tower. Ron and Hermione went up there ages ago, and I want to check on them. Are you coming?”  
  
Arthur was tired. He had been one of the few Ministry officials available whose loyalty was unquestioned, which meant that he was being consulted on all aspects of the cleanup. It boded well for his future job security, not that he cared about _that_ right now, but it also meant that he hadn’t been able to get much sleep at all on his little cot in the corner of the Great Hall. But it looked like Molly needed him--he hadn’t lived with her all these years without gaining a comprehensive understanding of all her facial expressions. And this one meant, “I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this, but I really need you right now.”  
  
He mustered up a tired smile and pushed himself off the bench. “Of course, Molly dear. I want to see them too.” He looked over at his other sons and said, “Boys, let’s take a little walk, okay?”  
  
Bill and Charlie took a little more persuading, but in the end all six of them silently headed out of the hall, towards the stairs. Molly looked back, with not a little pride in her heart. Her family had acquitted itself admirably in the war. Percy had worried her for awhile, but when the dragon was loose, as the saying went, he showed his true strength. Her heart skipped a beat yet again as she looked at George, missing an ear and a twin--truly they had been lucky, or blessed, or something, but it was rather hard to remember that through the pain.  
  
As they slowly climbed the stairs towards where they hoped their missing four were sequestered, Arthur got a peculiar, faraway look in his eyes. Molly noticed and shook her head. She squeezed his hand, and when he looked back at her, she said, “Go ahead and tell me--I know you won’t be able to get it out of your head.”  
  
Arthur smiled ruefully at his wife--she had just as much experience in _his_ facial expressions as he did hers. “I was just thinking--the Ministry has lifts, right? Well, the Muggles have these great things called _escamapators_ that look like stairs, but they move. How hard would it be to get them into Hogwarts? I mean, we have to go up five more flights, and I could really use an escamapator right now.”  
  
It was at that moment that Molly knew they’d be all right. Yes, they had lost a son (cue skipped heartbeat), and yes, the war had taken a rather large toll on the Wizarding world in general. But if her Arthur were able to think such (for him) normal thoughts, then the healing had already begun. Molly, of course, was the voice of the Weasley family, to coin a phrase. But Arthur was the family’s heart, and Molly wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
Reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Molly heaved a sigh of relief--she wasn’t exactly young, anymore, and that was quite a lot of stairs. Maybe an escamapator wouldn’t be such a bad thing.  
  
“Hello, Weasleys!” the Fat Lady called out in happiness. “I bet you’re looking for the rest of them, right?”  
  
Arthur smiled and nodded gently. “Yes, Ma’am,” he answered. “May we please go in? I’m afraid we don’t have the password. . .”  
  
“Tosh,” the portrait answered. “I know who you are, and if anyone deserves entrance, it’s the Weasley family--pure Gryffindor, through and through. Go on in, dears” she said, and reached over and unhooked the side of the painting, which swung slowly open.  
  
The Weasley family clambered in the opening, with Arthur giving Molly a hand up. Once inside, Bill and Charlie headed to the worn sofas, slumping down and closing their eyes almost immediately. George and Percy stood next to their parents for a bit, looking around in amazement that the Common Room was as unscathed as it was. It might have been a scene from any normal day during the school year, except for the scarcity of students.  
  
They were interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the girls’ staircase.  
  
“--but why does each stall have a waste basket?” It was clearly Ron’s voice.  
  
“Honestly, Ronald. There are just some things that girls need that boys don’t!” This was an obviously exasperated Hermione.  
  
“Like what?” Ron’s voice came as the couple finally came into view.  
  
Hermione looked rather relieved to see the Weasleys there en masse. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” she said brightly.  
  
Ron turned to look so quickly that he just about overbalanced. His face instantly flushed bright red. “Hi, Mum. We were just. . . er. . . Hermione wouldn’t let me go up the boys’ side, and I really had to use the loo, and so she took me up the girls’ side. . .” Ron trailed off into embarrassed silence as the rest of the Weasleys just stared.  
  
The silence was interrupted by a snort. Then a suppressed chuckle. Then all of the Weasley men, Ron excluded, lost their composure and the room was filled with their laughter.  
  
Surprisingly enough, it was George that finally commented. “I never thought it would be Ron who found the way into the girls’ dormitory. Fred and I. . .” he paused for a bit, then swallowed. “Fred and I would have given a lot to know the trick. Come on, Hermione, tell us what you did.”  
  
Hermione blushed a bit, then moved closer to Ron and put her arm around him. “It’s simple, really. The wards only detect if a boy is going up by himself. If a girl holds the boy’s hand, the wards allow him through just fine.”  
  
Percy looked shocked. “But--but--” he stammered. “That would allow just about _anyone_ to gain access to the female side. I admit that it makes sense, but why did nobody figure it out before?”  
  
Arthur chose that moment to clear his throat, unfortunately drawing attention to the light blush coloring his cheeks. Molly, too, looked like she’d rather be talking about something, _anything,_ else. But the impending interrogation was interrupted by laughter and footsteps coming down the boys’ side.  
  
Ginny’s voice got louder and louder, until the girl herself appeared at the bottom of the stairs, although turned around as though addressing someone farther up. “Harry, will you give up already? Just leave your hair like it is--I like it all mussed up like that. Besides, I worked hard to give it that ‘just shagged’ look, and I intend to show it off.”  
  
It was at that moment that Harry appeared, Ginny turned around, and they both saw the entire rest of the Weasley clan staring, gobsmacked. Silence reigned supreme in the Common Room, followed, very closely by a tremendous cry of mixed anger, humor, and, above all, consternation.  
  
“Ginevra Molly Weasley!!!!” came one cry.  
  
“Harry Potter! I assume you have an explanation for this!”  
  
Lower, and much less angry came a soft, “Way to go, sis!”  
  
And rising clearly above all the rest was an outraged voice shouting, “Stupefy!”  



	5. We Cordially Invite You

**Title:** Coming Home, Chapter 5, We Cordially Invite You  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Characters/pairings:** Harry/Ginny  
 **Summary:** Now that the Final Battle is over, Harry wants to pick up the pieces of the life he left behind, starting with Ginny.  
 **Author’s Notes:** Plot bunny that refused to shut up. Hope it’s enjoyable. Extra special thanks to my betas rosiekatriona, and sassyfrass. Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored.  
  
ooooooooooo  
  
The bright red light of the Stunning spell flashed across the Gryffindor Common Room, its aim as true as one would expect, seeing who cast it. And Ron, caught two steps away from Hermione, slumped bonelessly to the ground.  
  
Ten seconds later, George also slumped to the ground. But his excuse was inability to stand. He laughed, and laughed, and held his stomach, and laughed some more. Molly and Arthur, their attention caught by George’s hilarity, stared down at him. And as they watched, and gaped, George’s laughter turned into sobs.  
  
Molly, of course, was the first to the floor, to hold her baby. Arthur wasn’t far behind, everything else forgotten--no, not forgotten, but set aside for the needs of the moment. But almost as quickly, and a lot more surprisingly, was Percy. Percy, the lost sheep, returned to the fold, knelt down next to his brother, and held him, and supported him.  
  
Molly was slightly hurt by George’s turning to his brother. But, as mothers find out, sometimes their kisses don’t heal skinned knees, and sometimes their spit doesn’t clean away the dirt. And sometimes their almost-suffocating hugs don’t bind up broken hearts.  
  
Arthur put his arms around his wife, and held her close, and they, in turn, kept a close watch on George and Percy, hoping that this would be the first step in the healing process. They weren’t naive enough to believe that this would be the end of the tears, but the fact that he was crying gave them hope.  
  
Harry and Ginny left the relative safety of the stairwell to join the rest of the family, and Hermione stood indecisively about halfway in-between Ron’s crumpled form and the knot of Weasleys, and Harry and Ginny, around George. Finally, she decided that Ron would keep and crept around to Harry’s other side.  
  
“Hey, Hermione,” Harry whispered, wrapping an arm around her.  
  
“Hi. Listen--I didn’t tell Ron anything, but he’s been getting a little suspicious. You might want to explain to everyone else while he’s stunned, so that they’ll be on your side when he gets woken up.”  
  
Ginny turned to Harry in shock. “I thought nobody knew! You told me that it was our secret! When did you tell her?” She instantaneously turned her ire to Hermione. “When did he tell you? He promised me that he wouldn’t tell! I can’t believe--”  
  
Harry interrupted her before she could get too loud. “Gin!” he whispered, as loud as he could. “Do you want to just tell the whole family right now? ‘Cause you’ve just about got everyone’s attention!”  
  
Ginny stopped her diatribe, to find that her parents were staring at her in unabashed curiosity, as were Charlie and Bill. Percy was still talking quietly with George, thankfully, but they, and the unfortunate Ron, were the only ones not listening in.  
  
“Um, hi, everyone!” Ginny chirped, in a higher-than-normal voice. “We--” she indicated Harry and herself, “--need to have a quick chat, okay? Then we have something important to tell you.”  
  
She turned quickly to walk towards the stairs again, but a growl from Charlie, and a very determined, “You are NOT going up there alone, young lady!” had her changing her route and dragging Harry, and by extension, Hermione, into the far corner of the Common Room.  
  
The other Weasleys watched as the three held a rather furious, albeit whispered, conversation. Charlie made to get up off the couch, preparatory to sneaking closer, but Ginny caught the motion out of the corner of her eye, and her glare was enough to keep him from rising.  
  
“Okay, Harry, start talking. How did Hermione find out about the wedding?”  
  
Harry stammered a bit, and his voice chose that moment to ascend into the higher registers. “I don’t know, Gin! I promise, I didn’t tell anyone!” Ginny stared at her apparent husband, who looked back at her, willing her to see the truth. Satisfied, they both turned to look at the other girl.  
  
“Okay, Hermione. Spill!” Harry whispered, forcefully. Not coincidentally, Ginny let her hand drop to her wand.  
  
“Well, I didn’t really know for sure,” Hermione started, speaking softly, but as quickly as she could, “until I overheard Harry the night Ron left us.”  
  
“What!” Ginny shrieked, then quickly ducked, as if she could hide from the gimlet stares of her family.  
  
“You haven’t told her that?” Hermione questioned Harry.  
  
“Of course I did--I told her that night!” Harry responded.  
  
“What all did you overhear?” Ginny asked, intently.  
  
“Nothing!” Hermione protested. At Ginny’s incredulous look she deflated. “Well, not _nothing,_ I mean, I heard Harry call you on the mirror. It must be one of the mirrors that Sirius had given him, right? I thought you broke one, Harry.” Seeing the look on Harry’s face, she blushed slightly. “Right, I can ask later. Anyway, I heard him call you, Ginny, and he said something like, ‘How’ve you been, Mrs. Potter?’ and I just kind of freaked out. Remember, Harry, there was that dent in the teakettle? I dropped it when I heard that. And then I heard Ginny say something about wishing you were there to keep her warm, and I decided I really didn’t need to hear any more.”  
  
Ginny looked decidedly relieved at finding out the limits of Hermione’s knowledge, but Hermione wasn’t done. “What I can’t figure out is when you had time to do something--I mean, I’m happy for you and all, but when could you get married? And how? Ginny would have had to be only fifteen, right? And even then you would have had to sneak away from the school. And we were always together for Hogsmeade weekends, and then there was the funeral, and I thought you had broken up with her!” She turned towards Harry, accusingly.  
  
Harry flinched, but a quick squeeze from Ginny’s hand fortified him. “All right. Hermione, you’re right, we got married secretly. But I’d rather just explain it all at once.” Ginny squeezed his hand again, and he looked at his wife. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head towards the other girl. Harry questioned her with his gaze, and she nodded quickly. Harry looked back at his best-girl-friend-who-wasn’t-his-wife, and said, “Thank you, Hermione, for covering for us. We can’t tell you how much we appreciate that.” And the married couple enclosed the other girl in a giant hug.  
  
The other Weasleys noticed that the conference seemed to be over, and perked up as the trio came back towards them. George had subsided by now, and was watching them, too, with red eyes, although his mouth held a small smile. Charlie and Bill sat up a bit more in their respective sofas, and the Weasley parents motioned to everyone else to take a seat. Well, except for Ron, who was still _Stupefied_ on the floor.  
  
Harry sat in one of the big chairs, and Ginny promptly took a seat on his lap. This drew a rather disapproving look from Percy who repeated, “I assume you have an explanation for this!”  
  
Ginny looked impertinently at her brother and said, “Of course, Percy dear. I love Harry, and his lap is much more comfortable than any of those chairs.”  
  
Harry blushed slightly at this, but the real reaction came from Arthur. The patriarch of the family frowned at his, apparently rather forward, daughter, and said, even more forcefully than the last time, “Ginevra Molly Weasley!”  
  
“Potter, Dad,” came the forthright reply.  
  
Silence.  
  
Then, “What, dear?” came Molly’s voice. The softness of her voice was belied by the stern look in her eyes.  
  
“I said that my last name is Potter, Mum. Harry and I are married.”  
  
Not silence. In fact, the complete opposite of silence. Percy, from his seat on the floor next to George, was trying to be sentenciously offended, which was rather hard--sitting on the floor was obviously not something the always-proper Percy was used to. Of course, George’s presence was also rather a hindrance to Percy’s ploy--George had fallen over onto Percy’s shoulder, and was once again laughing, although it also looked like he was trying to speak. Eventually, he managed to calm himself enough to, much louder this time, call out, “Way to go, sis!”  
  
Bill and Charlie were stunned by this revelation, but that didn’t stop them from jumping up and shouting out random complaints about underaged-ness, stupid girls who got pregnant before they should, and imprecations towards Harry if he had done anything improper with their sister.  
  
Molly and Arthur stood up too, whether to rein in their two oldest or to get more freedom for wand motions, if needed, was unclear.  
  
Hermione, hoping to protect Harry, which she’d been doing for what seemed like forever, and Ginny, who had become her best girl-friend, also stood and backed up to keep everyone in sight.  
  
A sudden explosion from Molly’s wand, accompanied by a rather bright burst of sparks, drew the attention of everyone in the room.  
  
“Quiet!” she shouted, and the room fell silent. Molly glared sternly around at her children, and then spoke very deliberately. “We will all sit down and discuss this like the adults that we, hopefully, are.” She took a seat, and pulled Arthur down next to her. Bill and Charlie grumbled, but then sat as well. Hermione was left as the only other one not seated--well, Ron wasn’t, technically, seated either, but he probably didn’t count. In fact, most everyone had forgotten that he was still lying on the floor, peacefully dreaming, and drooling. Hermione chose a close armchair, and they all turned their attention to Molly.  
  
“Now, Ginevra,” Molly continued. “Would you care to explain?”  
  
Ginny took a deep breath, and Harry pulled her back against him for a quick hug. “Well, you see, Harry and I ended up dating last year.”  
  
Charlie scoffed, and said, “What do you mean _ended up?_ It’s not like you accidentally tripped and fell into a relationship!”  
  
Ginny turned and glared at her brother. “No, but it was almost as unexpected. But if you’d rather discuss semantics, I certainly don’t mind delaying the important stuff.”  
  
Charlie blanched, looked at his mother, and blanched even more. He sat back and motioned for Ginny to continue the story.  
  
“Anyway, when Dumbledore was murdered, Harry decided that he was going to have to find the. . . I mean, that he was going to have to go after Tom himself. After the funeral, he took me aside and gave me this long speech about how he didn’t think he could handle my being hurt. Then he said that we would have to break up, to protect me.”  
  
This time it was Bill who spoke up. “Finally! Something intelligent in this whole thing. Harry’s much too dangerous--well, he _was,_ at any rate. Good on you, Harry, for doing what was right.”  
  
Ginny smirked at Bill. “Do you really think I would have let him do that to me? After all, the whole school knew we had been dating, so it’s rather obvious that Tom would find out sooner or later. And it wouldn’t make me any safer--the whole world knows that Harry would drop everything to rescue _any_ of his friends--even a putative ex-girlfriend.  
  
“So,” Ginny continued, “when Harry tried to break up with me, I gave him a different option. I mean, yes, it would be good if I couldn’t tell anyone where he was. And I could pretend pretty well that he and I weren’t together any more. But the problem was that I wouldn’t know what was happening to him.”  
  
Harry took up the narrative. “It seems I found myself a rather brilliant girlfriend, even if I do say so myself.” He took a moment to plant a kiss on Ginny’s head. “So, she suggested that we get a pair of mirrors, like the ones that Sirius and Remus and my dad had. That way we could talk to each other. Well, that made a lot of sense, especially because since Ginny’s so smart, she could help doing research on how to destroy Riddle once and for all.”  
  
“But that wasn’t all,” Ginny interjected. “I wanted him to know how much I loved him and wanted him to come back. So, after I persuaded him to keep in contact with me, I asked him to marry me.”  
  
Molly looked rather scandalized. She had been engrossed in the story, seeing what kind of life the two of them had had back in the previous year--something that she hadn’t heard even a whisper about before. But the idea of a _girl_ proposing! That was preposterous!  
  
Arthur noticed his wife getting ready to denounce the brazen ways of kids nowadays, and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Molly, dear, let them finish the story. Nothing we can do about it now, is there?”  
  
Molly subsided with a grimace, and then nodded for the couple to continue.  
  
“Well, when Ginny proposed, I was rather shocked. I mean, I had hoped that, one day, I’d be able to get married, and have children. But I had pretty much given up on the idea, since I knew I had to kill Riddle, and I couldn’t see myself surviving. But then Ginny asked me to marry her, and all of a sudden I could see a future for myself--with a beautiful red-headed wife, and children. . . and a nice little house in the country, perhaps close to Devon. And I found myself wanting that so much--finally, a family to call my own!  
  
“And so I said ‘Yes’.”  
  
“Yelled it, more like,” Ginny said, an impish smile on her face. “Anyway, to make a long story short, we finally decided that the only option was to try the Room of Requirement. We went up there late one night, when we were supposed to be in bed. When we went in, there was a beautiful altar, with white crocheted lace on the top, and a book lying there.”  
  
“The book was entitled _Ancient Betrothal and Binding Rituals._ Ginny picked it up, and found one that didn’t require an officiator.”  
  
“It also didn’t make mention of an age limit,” Ginny explained. “So, we knelt at the altar and repeated the vows. When we finished, the altar glowed white like the book said it should, and we figured we were married.”  
  
Bill nodded his head at this. “Yeah, that sounds right--most magical bondings have some sort of glow that shows they were successful.” He shook his head. “I’m still not sure I like this. But there’s not much we can do about it now.” He quieted for a bit, then looked up and smirked. “I can’t believe you got married before I did. I thought I was the first.”  
  
Ginny smiled at her big brother. “Well,” she said, slowly. “You were probably the first married Weasly child to shag someone. . .”  
  
Everyone’s head snapped around to stare at the couple on the couch, which resulted in Harry blushing rather like a Weasley.  
  
“You mean. . .?”  
  
“You didn’t. . .?”  
  
“But. . .”  
  
The Weasleys all tried to speak at once, but even through the confusion it was obvious what they were trying to ask.  
  
“No,” Ginny replied. “We didn’t. I wanted to, but it was getting rather late the night we married, and we didn’t want anyone guessing what we’d been doing. We made plans to sneak off together before coming home, but there was so much going on that we couldn’t carry them out.”  
  
“And stupid Ron,” Harry muttered. Ginny blushed at this, but refused to elaborate to her family.  
  
Hermione was smiling--not knowing the details had just about driven her mental during the past year.  
  
Molly and Arthur exchanged looks that were rather information-rich, then turned together towards their only daughter, and their only son-in-law. “Well,” Arthur said. “I can’t say we’re happy about having missed our only daughter’s wedding--”  
  
Ginny jumped in. “Dad, don’t worry. We want to have a reception at the Burrow. We could even do a sort of a mock ceremony so that everyone can see us get married. Besides, who am I to deprive Mum of making another wedding cake?”  
  
Molly laughed softly. She couldn’t deny the love she saw between her daughter and Harry, but still wasn’t too sure about their having snuck off and gotten married. “So, was it worth it? Being married and having to stay apart for so long?”  
  
Harry looked down at the girl in his arms. “Yes, Molly. A million times yes.” He looked back up, with tears in his eyes. “When I went into the forest to meet Voldemort, I just knew I was going to die. I had to, see? I had the last Horcrux inside of me, and if Voldemort was to die, the Horcrux had to die too.”  
  
Bill and Charlie both choked at the mention of Horcruxes, but Harry continued on.  
  
“After I was killed--” everyone else gasped, “--I had the choice to go on and be with my parents and Sirius, or to come back. And I knew I could be happy having gone on. But Ginny, she was even more important. I hadn’t been able to fulfill my dreams yet, and I so desperately wanted to spend a lifetime with Ginny. I told Dumbledore--he had met me after I died--that I couldn’t leave my wife behind. So, you see, it’s really Ginny that saved everything. She was my wife, and I wasn’t about to give up on that.”  
  
Ginny pressed back against her husband, holding his arms closely around his waist. This was the first time she’d heard of this, and it scared her to realize how close she had come to losing her husband. The rest of the room was rather silent too, as they all pondered what they’d found out.  
  
Hermione finally broke the silence. “Um, Mrs. Weasley? Do you think it’d be okay if we woke Ron up now?”  
  
Molly blushed, and nodded her head. “I think so. I probably shouldn’t have stunned him like that, but I knew that Ron would react badly, and didn’t want to have to clean up Bat-Bogeys if Ginny got to him first.. _Reenervate!”_ she called, and Ron’s eyes opened.  
  
“What. . . what did I miss?”


End file.
